


I Can't Remember To Forget About The Face Of You

by geckoholic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>She shakes it off, smiles it away.</em> -  After 6.21, Lisa sometimes feels like things aren't quite right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Remember To Forget About The Face Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift for kalliel, which means it's not only really short but also really late. Ahem. BUT I DO ADORE YOU, BB. ♥ Her prompt can be found in the notes after the fic. 
> 
> Beta'd by nwspaprtaxis. Thank you so much! She suffered through more than one version of it; so many headaches over so few words. /o\ I fiddled with it again after she last saw it, all remaining mistakes are mine.

She dreams about the accident, for a while after it happens. Not the actual crash, but about _him_. Nothing of substance, and she never remembers much, but when she wakes up she knows she's seen his face. It's odd, a little, how she can't seem to shake him off. Doesn't have it in herself to be angry with someone who could've killed her. 

But they fade, these dreams, and eventually they stop. 

 

***

 

Every Tuesday, Lisa meets Mindy for lunch. She hasn't got many appointments for the morning that day, and Ben has a set study appointment with the Garner boy from the other end of the street, doesn't come home until 3:30 pm or later. 

On one of these Tuesdays, while she and Mindy are having pasta with asparagus, the daily special, they see an old Buick drive by. Mindy is the one to spot it first. "Oh," she swoons, "Lisa, look! My uncle had one like it, [Buick Wildcat](http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1967_Buick_Wildcat_-_Flickr_-_denizen24_\(1\).jpg) or something. Such a beauty!" 

And it _is_ a beauty, shiny and dark blue and in perfect condition, silver parts polished so the light glints on them, but for some reason, Lisa's stomach turns at the sight. There's something coming to life inside of her, a faded feeling of familiarity and loss, like an old and distant memory. 

But she shakes it off, smiles it away. "Sure is! And yeah, it's a tragedy. They don't make them like that anymore.” 

 

***

 

Every now and then, Lisa finds things in her house that she doesn’t remember buying, that she's sure aren't hers. A sweater that's two sizes too big, an old-fashioned knife with a worn, wooden handle, a rosary. For Ben's sake, she never had a boyfriend move in with her, so it's unlikely they've been left behind in a breakup, especially since she never dated anyone who'd keep a knife around, or a rosary. 

Maybe they'd been left behind in the house by a previous owner, she finally decides. It happens. And sometimes, these things are gone when she goes looking for them again, so that she's not sure she ever really saw them. 

 

***

 

The strawberries were on sale. She bought two boxes, one so they can have them for dessert after dinner that evening, and one she can use to make a strawberry cake. It's a recipe she learnt from her mother, one of the first because Lisa kept begging and begging because it's been her favorite; still is, and she wanted to know how to make it. 

A thousand times since then, she did just as she was told that day when she couldn't have been older than twelve: mix flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in a big bowl. When it's a thick, even mass, add some butter, let it rest for a while before you put in the strawberries and pour the batter into a baking tin. While it rests, take more of the strawberries and blend them, so that you can put it into whipped cream for the frosting. 

Idly, she wonders why she hasn't made any in ages; it's not only her favorite, Ben adores it, too. The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, sometimes. The thought makes her smile as she dips her finger into the finished frosting to taste it, and she thinks of the face Ben will make when he sees the cake. He's currently in the living room with Kyle, they're watching a football game together, and neither of them has seen the berries yet. 

It's going to be a nice surprise, for both of them. Kyle loves strawberries, too, and she doesn't think she's made that cake for him yet. 

No, wait. He can't love strawberries. He's allergic to them. Kiwis, too, and some other fruits. But she remembers, clearly, how she made it last year, for herself and Ben and – 

"Dean," she says aloud, and something deep inside her aches, for only a heartbeat; the thought is gone as soon as it appeared, name and face and memories there for a second and gone the next. A little like when you've been driving for hours, in the dark, and you zone out for the space of a blink: there's nothing that changed, hardly any time has passed, but you know you've just missed a few moments of your life. 

Lisa blinks, shakes her head in confusion. She stares down at her finger, still wet with her saliva. Frowning, she wipes it on a towel from the hook by the sink and stares at the bowl and the dish with the whipped cream, the leftover strawberries still left in the box. Tears well up in her eyes at the sight, and she's got no idea why. She _should know_ , that much she's sure about, but she doesn't. 

The noises from the TV – cheers and toots and those annoying horns that get handed out at games – waver over from the living room, and Lisa wipes the wetness from her eyes. She wrenches open the door that holds the trash can and begins to throw the whole mess into the bin, batter and frosting and strawberries alike. 

By the time she's done with cleaning the kitchen and joins Ben and Kyle on the sofa, she's a lot calmer. Some unease and confusion remain, the eerie feeling that she's missing few key parts of the puzzle. But it's not the first time, and it might not be the last.

She's almost used to it now.

**Author's Note:**

>  **PROMPT:** "Dean/Lisa, post-6x21. She's baking strawberry cake, her favorite. She licks [this frosting](http://www.cupcakeproject.com/2009/02/strawberry-whipped-cream-recipe.html) from the tip of her finger, then realizes something is terribly, horribly wrong. (And it's not the frosting that's the problem.)"
> 
> Also, the [car](http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1967_Buick_Wildcat_-_Flickr_-_denizen24_\(1\).jpg) mentioned in the second paragraph has been found through random google searches and doesn't hold any special meaning. I do find the resemblance striking, though, and the fact that it's a 1967'er too makes my inner geek very, very happy.


End file.
